


Special Occasion

by BatShitCrazy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Injustice - Fandom, Superman - All Media Types, World's Finest - Fandom
Genre: Bondage, Evil Kal, Evil Superman, M/M, Non-Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 01:01:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatShitCrazy/pseuds/BatShitCrazy
Summary: This is an older story written as a gift for two wonderful people.Injustice style.Features Evil Superman and Prisoner Bruce.This is a non con story with lots of kinks.Please heed warnings for triggers.





	Special Occasion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yamada_CZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamada_CZ/gifts), [Pandamomochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandamomochan/gifts).



> Written in a different style, quite some time ago.
> 
> For Yami and MoMo.
> 
> I had to hold back from editing/fixing/adding. I wanted to keep the original story, errors and all. This was not Beta read at all, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> This story is not everyone's cup of tea, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
> Cheers,  
> BatS

Special Occasions.

 

  
He starts to tremble as the last buckle is closed.

His hands are hoisted into position by the smooth nanotech material the Fortress is made of.

The nanotech material the Fortress can make anything of.

The nanotech material the Fortress Does make anything of at a singular whim.

He’s brought to the chamber frequently.

Kal knows he doesn’t like it.

The hum of the machinery changes.

He bites his bottom lip.

The blindfold goes on this time.

He’s a little glad to hide his eyes behind the scrap of material.

“Ready?” Kal asks him.

He doesn’t answer.

Kal doesn’t care about the answer.

It’s not one of the questions he’s expected to answer.

“I won’t leave this time. I’ll stay and watch” Kal says.

He shivers.

His skin texturing with goosebumps.

A warm hand strokes his flank.

A whimper leaves his lips.

He feels his mouth covered with scorching hot lips, the scalding tongue dipping inside to taste him.

There’s the ping, the one that echoes in the chamber.

Kal chuckles as he steps back.

A chair forms around him and he sits back for the show, his own private viewing.

“Begin” Kal says in Kryptonian.

There’s a change in pitch as the room moves.

From the floor, slender branches grow upwards, thin and flexible.

One curls around his ankle.

The texture is always consistent, but it also depends on the instruction it’s given.

Today it is cool and smooth. 

As it winds its way slowly upwards, it leaves a trail of slickness.

A second branch is moving down from where his hands are bound above his head, for now. 

Even the restraints shift at the whim of the Last Son of Krypton.

It’s touch is feather light around his wrist and forearm. 

It stops at his elbow.

Another wraps itself around the material of his collar.

There’s a hiss when it slides over the metal buckle.

A thick band wraps his torso, playfully sliding along ridged muscles.

He inhales sharply. 

It usually starts slower.

Perhaps Kal is impatient today and his humiliation will be brief.

Kal chuckles from his chair knowingly.

Then again, perhaps not.

His other leg has one curling closely together and flattening like ribbon. 

It wraps his leg until it stops just past his knee. 

The feeling is akin to a tight sock or stocking.

Without warning, he is lifted away from the deck. 

He’s hanging by his legs, torso, elbow and neck. 

Gravity pulls at his back. 

He’s gone from vertical to horizontal.

A whisper thin strand strokes his chest.

It wraps itself around the nub of his nipple several times. 

It squeezes rhythmically.

The slick coating has the slightly darker skin pebbling.

He whines when a slender branch like strand tickles where his ass cheek joins the back of his thigh. 

Another instantly crawls across his face

Across his cheek to coat his lips.

Massaging them until blood flushes them red. 

It enters his mouth.

It explores every surface of his tongue.

The insides of his cheeks.

His gums.

The roof of his mouth.

It squirts liquid down his throat.

It begins to fatten.

It’s stretching his lips around the girth of the appendage.

He tries to concentrate on breathing through his nose.

His legs are pulled apart.

A bunch wind and twist across his hips.

The cool surfaces press into his muscles.

Moving them in a parody of a massage.

A tip separates to apply pressure to his perineum.

It’s much colder than the rest.

He inhales sharply through his nose.

Others work together to wrap his firm ass cheeks

They slide down the cleft.

They spread his ass apart.

His hole clenches as he’s exposed.

His heart is beating much faster

He tries to shake his head.

He is tense as he waits.

It could be a few seconds or a few minutes.

There is no time here.

He feels himself breached.

This one is warm, not Kryptonian body temperature warm.

The cold on his perineum and the warmth invading his ass are a contrast.

It has him writhing.

They operate with technical precision and efficiency.

The one in his ass has applied itself to his prostrate. 

It pulses.

He moans from deep in his chest.

His balls are wrapped.

Squeezing.

Vibrating inconsistently.

There’s no rhythm.

There’s no friction.

Slick fluids coat his entire body.

Shiny.

Glossy.

He’s hardening.

A single long whipcord has wrapped itself around his cock multiple times. 

It squeezes up and down his length like a ripple on water.

From his root to his tip and back down again.

The tip on his perineum is flattening

Disc like it pushes behind his balls. 

It covers the entire surface of the perineum area. 

The cold is dissipating. 

Low current is sent through his skin to create a circuit with the one in his ass. 

Mild shocks stimulate his prostrate.

He’s groaning in cadence.

The whipcord around his cock has extended the tip, long and thin.

It bends back on itself to enter his slit.

Slowly.

Inexorably.

The rest of his body is stretched to the edge of pain. 

He can barely breathe.

He is filled.

In every hole.

In every way.

Then they begin to pulse, as if blood flowed.

Thickening and thinning.

Fraction by fraction.

Behind his blindfold his eyelids are open wide.

His pupils are fully dilated.

Every tip sends a surge of current through him.

The pulsing girths increase more.

The pace increases.

A second tip joins the first in his ass.

His hole is stretched.

A third enters.

The one on his prostrate hasn’t altered in shape or movement.

It continues to zap mercilessly. 

The other two slide against each other

Entering and exiting him in alternating waves. 

A fourth enters him

Then a fifth.

The one wrapped around his cock has its tip delved deeply into his slit.

The vibration shakes him through the entirety of his dick.

The one in his mouth has his tongue pressed.

Saliva leaks down his chiseled jaw.

Both his nipples stand up from his body.

The wispy length wraps them.

Stretching them away from his chest.

His balls are held tightly.

A long jolt of current is sent to every point of contact.

Blackness is eating at his mind.

He is stimulated beyond anything human.

His prostrate throbs. 

His cock aches.

His balls are tight.

His entire body is stretched more.

He’s a fucking starfish being fucked every way possible.

His joints stretch.

His ligaments scream.

He’s forgotten how to breathe.

A single tendril wraps the base of his cock tightly.

Preventing him from release.

The shaking is uncontrollable.

His whines high pitched.

He tries to scream.

Nothing is leaving his body.

The tendril around his neck tightens.

He can’t even exhale.

Everything is white as his vision hazes.

His ears buzz.

He can feel the pumping of his heart.

The rush of blood through his veins.

The desperate push pull of his lungs.

He’s about to blackout.

He won’t die.

The technology only takes him to the fine line at the edge.

There’s a minute slackening around his neck.

Air moves in and out in small sips.

In a barely there opening.

His heart is trying to beat its way out of his body.

The pounding inside his skull is deafening.

His body is subjected to another long dose of current.

He screams.

It comes out as a rattling gurgle.

Suddenly the pressure around the base of his cock is gone.

The slit is still full.

His ass is being pounded rhythmically.

His balls are on fire.

The tightness wrapped around his throat backs off completely.

He’s heaving great sobbing gasps of air.

The pressure from his perineum leaves.

His stretched nipples are released.

His body is allowed to curl a little.

He rests on a soft surface.

It’s warm against his back.

His ass is still being fucked.

He’s pretty sure he’s beyond coming now.

Most of those branches leave his fluttering hole.

The tip in his slit has reduced to millimetres instead of centimetres.

Tears are absorbed by the blindfold.

He’s whimpering with every breath.

Highpitched inhale.

Low guttural exhale.

His arms and legs are still restrained.

A single tendril still wraps around his dick.

It still invades in his cock.

Two tendrils move constantly in his ass.

There’s a hand in his hair.

“You want to come baby?” Kal asks him.

The only answer is a thin whine.

“Come” he is commanded.

He comes.

A slow dribble around the tendril from an overstimulated exhausted cock.

“Today’s a special day, don’t you remember?”

Kal kisses him.

It’s gentle.

Loving like they used to.

Kal bites the ragged lower lip.

Kal laps at the blood that drips from his sharp jaw.

“I’ve arranged to do this all day” 

Pause.

A heavy sigh.

“Happy Birthday Bruce.”

Kal smirks.

He takes his seat.

“Prepare program 2” Kal says in Kryptonian.

Alien eyes dance in anticipation.

The tendrils shift him. 

His hands are bound over his head.

His ankles splayed apart.

Mimicking the previous start position perfectly except that his whole body is inverted.

His wrists are attached to the floor.

Tendrils move around his ankles to hoist his legs into the air.

Spreading them apart. 

Instantly.

Completely. 

The thick band wraps his torso holding him in position.

“Begin” says Kal in Kryptonian.


End file.
